Hunting -- Spain; Natural history -- Spain; Spain -- Description and travel
Months afterwards--it was before daybreak on December 28 (1898)--the
authors lay awaiting the "early flight" of geese at the Puntal, hard by,
when an eagle (whether the same or not) appeared from out the gloom,
made a feint at No. 1's decoy-geese (made of wood), passed on and fairly
"stooped" at those of No. 2. A moment later the great bird-of-prey fell
with resounding splash, and proved to be (so far as we know) the only
sea-eagle ever shot in Spain--a female, weight 12-1/2 lbs., expanse just
under 8 feet.
* * * * *
This is not the only instance in our experience of eagles hunting before
the dawn. We recall several others. Apparently, if pressed by hunger,
eagles start business early--almost as early as we do ourselves.
SPOTTED EAGLE (_Aquila naevia_).--This also, like the last, is scarcely
a Spanish species; but a beautiful example, heavily spotted, was shot in
September in the Pinar de San Fernando by our friend Mr. Osborne of
Puerto Sta. Maria. It was one of a pair.
PEREGRINE AND PARTRIDGE.--CORRAL QUEMADO, _Jan. 27, 1909_. While posted
on a mesembrianthemum-clad knoll during a big-game drive, troops of
partridges kept streaming out from the covert behind. Their demeanour
struck both me and the next gun posted on a knoll 200 yards away. Across
the intervening glade, almost bare sand but for a stray tuft of rush or
marram-grass, the partridge ran to and fro in a dazed sort of way,
crouching flat as though terror-stricken, or standing upright, gazing
stupidly in turn. None dared to fly, though some were so near they could
not have failed to detect me. The mystery was solved when a peregrine
swept close overhead and made feint after feint: yet not a partridge
would rise. Well they knew that the falcon would not strike _on the
ground_; but what a "soft job" it would have been for a goshawk or
marsh-harrier! Presumably partridge discriminate between their winged
enemies and in each case adapt defence to fit attack.
An interesting scene was terminated by a lynx trotting out by my
neighbour, Sir Maurice de Bunsen, who might thus have been taken
unawares; only ambassadors are never believed to be so, and on this
occasion the spotted diplomat certainly got the ball quite right, behind
the shoulder.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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